


Bruto

by Kingu



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Sex, Italian Medic, M/M, OCs based off Loadouts so they still look pretty similar to the canon characters, Original Characters - Freeform, Rimming, Rough Sex, Russian Heavy, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingu/pseuds/Kingu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gift fic for TastyTexan of our Heavy & Medic OCs! Lots of gratuitous porn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruto

A gift for my Best Bro, Tastytexan, 

Brief backstory: Vlad was a mafia boss in Russia, Met Roswell in prison, tried to make Ros his prison bitch, Roswell turned out to be really fucking annoying and wouldn't leave Vlad alone because he wanted his money. Vlad likes Roswell for sex, Roswell likes Vlad for his money, apart from that they can't stand eachother. Both now work for Mann.co on Red. 

Roswell: Bratty, stuck-up Medic, long-ish black hair, around 45 year old, Italian, Keeps crows, likes food, about 5'7

Vladimir: HUGE, Hairy, Russian Heavy, Taller then canon heavy, more muscular, has black hair & beard w/ a white streak, fake gold canine teeth, gold earrings, One crazy looking orange/yellow eye. About 47, like 7 foot tall. 

Here's a ref for them: -- <http://tastytexan.tumblr.com/post/129552951763/woo-art-mine-and-kingus-sick-medic-and-heavy>

 Thank google translate for all the incorrect Italian in this, I didn't have access to a real life Italian person at 4am last night. I'll fix it at some point!

\---

 

The bedroom door opens with a startling bang, nearly flying off the hinges as a particularly angry, burly Russian barges into the room, nostrils flared and seemingly livid.

Vlad’s heterochromic eyes immediately fall upon the familiar image of a Medic, lounging on his bed amidst a nest of pillows and what appears to be an assortment of candy wrappers, crumbs littering his chest while idly flicking through static-y television channels.

The Medic, known as Roswell, doesn’t flinch as the other barges in so abruptly. He’d heard those thundering footfalls a mile away. He does raise an eyebrow as Vlad rounds the bed and stands very deliberately in front of the small television set, hands on hips and looking rather peeved. The medic continues stuffing his 3rd chocolate bar into his mouth, only bothering to look mildly inconvenienced as he attempts to peer round the great Russian.

“I can’t see my show” He states, gesturing with the sticky remote, careful not to spray crumbs.

“I do not care. $22,000 gone from my account” Vlad fumbles in his inner pocket for a moment, before producing a crumpled bank statement, smoothing it out and reading “Oh one australium coated bird cage” He gives Roswell an accusing frown “Twenty two _thousand_ dollars of my money on a fucking _bird cage_?”

Roswell eyes the bank notice before shrugging, entirely disconcerted, breaking off another square of dark chocolate between his teeth;

“Mandy was getting too big for her old one”

 

The huge Russian sighs, none too happy this self-entitled little Medic had been spending _his_ money on extravagant gifts for his pet  _crows_ of all things. 

He gives the bed, and the Medic, a once-over, noting the mess of crumbs and sticky chocolate all over his genuine-bearskin throw, his imported goose-feathered pillows piled around the infuriating Italian like some kind of cushy nest. The haphazardly tossed wrappers catch his eye, particularly, the black and gold labeling.

“Is that my шоколад?” Vlad snarls, voice growling behind clenched teeth. He points as the discarded wrappers with a thick finger. Roswell shrugs, that bratty little sneer that Vlad despises so much already seeping onto his face. “

Your what?” He says, disinterestedly, still trying to peer around his partner. Vlad grabs the closest wrapper, screwing it up and tossing the little ball of paper at Roswell’s head. The Medic hardly blinks as it bounces off him.

“My _chocolate_ , stupid, Ones Mama sent over from home. You ate all of it?” He bearded Russian asks incredulously and rather furious. Roswell looks at the half eaten bar in his hand, then at the wrappers littering the itchy fur throw.

“Oh. Then yes” He shrugs again, frowning at Vlad’s obvious scowl “I don’t know why you’re mad, it’s not even good” Roswell sneers, despite cramming the last of it into his mouth.

Vlad takes a moment to just breathe; he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He just doesn’t have the patience, he’s never had the best temper and this Medic just knows how to push all of his buttons all at once.

“If you’re done complaining, kindly _move_ , you’re blocking the screen” Roswell bites, miraculously pulling a packet of crisps out from under a pillow.

Vlad’s eyes snap open as he turns, searching the wall before roughly ripping the plug out of its socket, watching as the fuzzy images on the TV screen immediately die. Roswell pauses, a crisp barely resting on his tongue.

“Oh, stop having a tantrum” he sighs, exasperated until he meets Vlad’s eyes. The Russian is looming at the end of the bed, eyes boring straight into the Medic’s own, huge fists clenches and golden teeth bared in a snarl. That look spells danger, and Roswell slowly puts his snack to one side, meeting Vlad’s stare with his own arrogant, unimpressed one.

“Apologize” Vlad demands, voice low and dangerous like approaching thunder. His anger only grows as he watched Roswell’s mouth curl into a smirk, before the Italian barks a snide laugh.

“Very funny” The Medic sneers, stuffing a handful of crisps into his open mouth and crunching loudly. There’s a long moment where the only sounds in the room consists of Roswell’s open-mouthed munching. Vlad remains stoic, eyes narrowed at the arrogant Italian in a grim frown.

“You are a brat” The Russian shakes his head at the other, the very sight of the Medic leaving a bad taste in his mouth. It sours even more when Roswell rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, fix the TV and go away” A growl rolls up Vlad’s throat before he lunges for the Medic, who practically spits an arch of crumbs as the Heavy makes a grab for him, quickly rolling to one side and tugging his caught ankle from the Heavy’s grip, and scrabbling off the bed in a flurry of movement. Roswell stands cautiously on the opposite side of the bed, using the furniture as a subconscious barricade while the two stare each other down, each as wary of the other.

“Don’t get fucking _grabby_ with me, I’ve told you before” The Italian spits rather furiously, smoothing a stray lock of hair back from his face with a huff. He barely manages to barely to contain a shriek as Vlad moves with a sudden burst of speed, charging around the bed towards him at an alarming pace, thunderous footsteps sending the furniture rattling.

“Come here” Vlad orders, reaching a huge paw out toward the bratty Italian. Roswell bristles like a cornered animal, quickly searching for some kind of defense; he makes a grab for an ornate lamp off the nearest dresser, brandishing it like a weapon and swinging it wildly. “

Don’t _touch_ me” He spits, but the Russian only wraps a hand around the lamp, yanking it away from the Medic and hurling it against the wall with a clatter. Roswell recoils with a look of momentary horror, quickly replaced with sheer anger, batting Vlad in the barreled chest in a rather flimsy attempt to defend himself. The huge man hardly flinches at the swats, continuing to bully his way into the Medic’s space.

The enraged Italian soon finds himself backed up against the dresser, draws rattling as it bumps painfully into his lower back. He hunches defensively like a wet cat, teeth bared in a snarl as he holds out his hand firmly between himself and the Russian, trying but failing to keep the other man at bay. Roswell grunts as Vlad’s enormous hand comes up and grips his chin fiercely, squeezing his cheeks so hard that the Medic momentarily resembles an angry fish. The Russian leans in close, breathing against the Medic’s lips, whose nose crinkles at the acrid stench of Vlad’s most recent smoke.

“You are a pain in my side” Vlad growls, his mismatched eyes boring into Roswell’s own, burning with a simmering fury. Roswell narrows his eyes back, before spitting very deliberately right into the others face. Vlad breathes heavily through his nose as the warm gob of spit trails very slowly down his right cheek.

“ _Bruto_ ” The Italian barks lividly. Vlad only puckers his lips in a false, mocking kiss. Roswell gnashes his teeth right back, just catching the skin of Vlad’s bottom lip. He spits the bloody wad to the floor, only to be belted across the face so hard, it sends him slumping over the bed in a daze, groaning pathetically and clutching his throbbing face.

Given barely a moment to regain himself, Roswell feels a huge pair of hands tugging at the legs of his pants, before going to his expensive leather belt, ripping the thing off so roughly he hears the loops pop right off. Immediately the Medic starts to thrash and protest, kicking and screaming in anger as the Russian continues to attempt to pull off his clothes.

“Get _off_ me you stupid-!” Roswell cuts short as a harsh first curls in his sleek hair, shoving his face into the bed and muffling his furious shouts as he pounds the mattress with his fists out of sheer anger, infuriatingly helpless against Vlad’s strength. He turns his head and let’s out an enraged screech as the giant actually rips his underwear off, throwing the torn garment carelessly over one shoulder.

Once the Medic is reluctantly bare from the waist down, the Heavy starts on the Italian’s flimsy work shirt, tugging it off the man’s shoulders and jerking him about roughly as the seams tear, buttons flying as it rips away like tissue paper. Roswell complains all the while, grunting and groaning dramatically as he’s jostled about by the brutish Russian.

Finally, Vlad gives him a moment to breathe, leaving him sprawled naked on the double bed, before the Medic bolts upright, scrambling to cover himself with the bearskin throw for modesty’s sake, glaring furiously at the Russian.

“ _What the fuck_?!” He asks incredulously, and rather breathlessly, face red with half anger, half embarrassment. The Medic goes uncharacteristically quiet as the Heavy slowly approaches, gasping in surprise as those enormous hands grip his wrists tightly and easily wrestle him down onto the bed, spreading and pinning his arms open wide, as Vlad pushes his way between the Medic’s flailing legs, his hulking body baring down on the smaller man and keeping him pinned.

Roswell flexes his hands to keep the feeling in them, turning his head away sharply as Vlad hovers his face inches from his own. The Medic arches up against the huge Russian, attempting but failing to throw the man off and only flopping back down to the bed with a huff. He grows even more frustrated when Vladimir doesn’t say a word, just looks down at him with such obvious distaste, like he isn’t even worth wasting his breath.

“Get o _ff_ ” The Italian mutters, if not sulkily. Vlad only continues to stare, eyes narrowed, his mouth a grim line as he gives the smaller man a calculating look, before seizing the little medic under the armpits and hauling him properly up onto the bed. Roswell twists and squirms out of his grasp, scooting back against the headboard and drawing his knees up defensively, eyeing the Heavy with growing apprehension.

The old mattress dips as the hulking Russian joins the Medic on the bed, bed springs creaking as he slowly crawls up and over Roswell, who sinks down into the pillows, engulfed in Vlad’s shadow, eyes wide in a fearful, but hostile stare. He feels his pulse beginning to race. Vlad’s dis-concerned gaze moves slowly from the Medic’s face to somewhere above his head, before his mouth finally opens, and Roswell catches a glimpse of those gaudy, golden canines.

“Turn over, put your hands on the headboard” His voice rumbles through Roswell’s body like thunder, he feels it rattle his bones and thrum in his chest. The Medic wants to run, but Vlad’s thick arms are planted firmly either side of him. The Heavy stares down at the smaller man expectantly. Roswell remains frozen, sunk down flat on his back, and staring up in an almost fearful awe at the beast of a man looming over him. _This_ is how Vlad wants his Medic, humbled, overpowered, utterly surrendered and accepting in his place _under_ the Russian.

When the Medic refuses to move, Vlad snatches up a fistful of long, dark hair and gives the man’s head a rough jerk, causing Roswell to squawk in pain, demanding his full attention.

“Well?” Vlad says, low and expectant. That infuriating little crease begins to form just above Roswell’s nose, a well-known, tell-tale sign of a brewing tantrum. Vlad immediately nips it in the bud before it can escalate, tugging the Medic’s hair again and practically shaking the sneer from his face. Roswell feels his brain rattle in his skull. Patience thinning, the burly Russian decides to make the Medic’s decisions for him. He takes the small man suddenly by the hips and roughly flips him over, causing the medic to bounce a little on the bed in the commotion. Vlad takes the Medic’s smaller hands in his own and firmly places them against the wooden headboard.

“Keep them there” Vlad growls into the Italian’s ear, and Roswell feels the fine hairs on his arms and neck stand up.

Defiant as he can be, Roswell very reluctantly keeps his hands where they are put, sulking while the Heavy pulls at his hips, positioning him on his knees with his back arched and rear presented. The Medic gives a childish whine through his nose and squirms uncomfortably, trying close his legs and feeling far too exposed, but he only receives a harsh slap to his thigh for his efforts. He gives a stroppy huff and leans his forehead against the wood between his hands, hiding his face. He doesn’t want to know what he plans to do back there.

“Keep still” Roswell hears Vlad rumble behind him, his tone leaves no room for argument, but that doesn’t mean the he has to be exactly happy about it, and he grumbles under his breath. His complaints dwindle into a tiny, breathy gasp as two big, calloused thumbs brush gently up the inside of his thighs, trailing slowly up the soft skin of his balls and finally to lightly spread his ass cheeks. He hears Vlad shift around, feeling the other man’s warm breath, hot against his taint, and the Medic’s breath hitches.

“Noo…” Roswell grouses “I’m _tired_ ; I want to go to bed”

When Vlad doesn’t dignify him with a response, the Medic chances a glance back over his shoulder, only to be wracked with a full-body shudder as the Russian mouths gently at his sac, barely teasing the skin with his lips, thick beard tickling the Medic’s inner thighs, those huge hands kneading the soft flesh of his rear.

“I mean it-! I’m not in the fucking mood, I haven’t even showered yet”

“Be quiet” Vlad murmurs against his skin, the subtle vibrations lighting the Medic’s nerves on fire. Those thumbs probe further and spread the Medic open even more, Roswell feels his skin pulled tight, his hole fully exposed. He groans again in resentful humiliation, hands gripping the headboard ever tighter.

Roswell’s eyes squeeze shut and he keens a sharp moan, as a hot, slick tongue suddenly flicks against his ass. He throws his head back and shudders as Vlad licks against him, keeping his laps firm and precise, barely dipping his tongue into Roswell’s hole with each swipe of his tongue.

“Oh _fuck”_ The Italians breaths against the wood, as the Russian licks slowly along his crack, starting at his balls and trailing up and over his hole, right to the base of his spin, flattening the dark hairs there and leaving the Medic wet with saliva.

“You’re so disgusting” Roswell hisses back at his partner, though his voice is undeniably thick with unwilling lust. However his head suddenly drops between his arms as Vlad hums against him in response.

The Italian can only bite his bottom lip to stifle a whine as that hot tongue probes ever further, though his eyes snap open as the pressure becomes insistent, feeling those thumbs practically hook into him and open him up to accept nearly all of Vlad’s thick tongue.

“Don’t-” Roswell cuts himself off with a loud, wailing moan, thighs’ shaking as Vlad’s mouth closes around his pucker, probing deep inside and sending the Medic into a fit of shakes. His long hair begins to curl from the sweat forming on his brow, Skin flushed pink up to his ears, brows quivering as he attempts to steel himself against the onslaught of Vlad’s merciless mouth.

The Russian pulls off with a wet pop, a line of spit connected from his lip to the Medic’s reddened, twitching hole, left slick and shiny.

“You like it” Vlad chuckles, finally the smallest hint of amusement in his throaty voice. Roswell scowls over one shoulder at the bearded man, only to slump down onto his elbows and chest with a shout as Vlad suddenly drives his wide tongue back into him, feeling it wriggle and writhe against his insides, hands gripping and kneading at his plump ass all the while.

The Heavy pulls Roswell’s lower half into his lap, even going as far as to lift the shorter mans legs up over his broad shoulders, wrapping his gargantuan arms around his waist and practically burying his face between the man’s cheeks, slurping gratuitously and pushing spit into his hole.

The Medic finally slaps one hand over his own mouth to stifle his cries as Vlad practically holds him upside-down and eats his ass like it’s the last meal of a starving man, feeling ridiculously small and malleable in the arms of the bigger male, he can only quiver and moan, though the position makes his back and shoulders ache.

Roswell curses himself as he feels his cock growing plump and full, he can’t deny the heat radiating from the base of his spine, the way his balls tighten, and the shocking lances of pleasure that Vlad’s tongue lavishes upon his most intimate place. It makes his toes curl.

Fisting one hand into the bed sheets, Roswell sneaks the other down his stomach to toy with the head of his cock, curling a fist loosely around it to tease himself and feed his growing lust. Almost as soon as he does, Vlad pulls his mouth away and drops the Medic heavily onto his face, grabbing the offending hand and twisting harshly to pin it against the small of Roswell’s back, Leaning heavily over the smaller man.

“You do not touch yourself unless I say so” He growls threateningly into the Medic’s red ear. The Medic groans in frustration through his teeth.

“ _Don’t get ahead of yourself_ ” He hisses right back, making a noise of discomfort as the iron grip on his wrist tightens, pushing his arm higher up his back.

Roswell sighs in relief as his arm is released, but he grunts as Vlad once again grasps his hips and forcefully positions the Medic onto all fours.

“Stay” Vlad commands, voice like distant thunder. Roswell grimaces and mutters complaints under his breath, but reluctantly stays put.

Once again he is reduced to wracks of shivers as Vlad wastes no time latching his wide mouth over the Medic’s slick opening and proceeding to vigorously tongue-fuck his ass, the wet, obscene noises causing the Italian to grow even redder with embarrassment. He knows Vlad should be the one in shame, knowing the man thoroughly enjoys what he’s doing, but at the moment, the Medic feels far more humiliated.

When one of those thick thumbs brushes against his wet, open hole, searching to join Vlad’s invading tongue inside him, a high moan rolls up Roswell’s throat, and he shakes. One thumb soon turns into a large, unforgiving finger, probing alongside Vlad’s wet tongue, searching deep inside him as the Russian begins to finger him with firm, steady movements, taking his sweet time in opening the Medic up.

Vlad’s copious amounts of saliva make the Medic slick and easy, hole pliable and soft as he works a second finger in, Causing Roswell to jolt and groan. Wiping his mouth on the back of his free hand, Vladimir screws his large fingers deep into the Medic’s backside, up to the knuckle and Roswell clenches around them, moaning into his own palm.

He’s always so torn, his nerves feel alive and tingly but he just can’t bring himself to relax and let the sensations overcome him, All too aware of his submissive position and this brutish man’s fingers invading his ass. Destroying him, reducing his mind and body to a quivering mess.

“Why not just admit you like it?” Vlad chides lowly, smiling to himself as he watches the Medic’s tight hole swallow his fingers. He notes the Italian’s full, red cock, hanging heavily between his legs, a tiny bead of precum slowly dripping from the tip; “I love hearing you moan, Just let go and enjoy it”

Roswell gives an annoyed groan, burying his face into the sheets, wiping sweat against the fabric as he shudders.

“I don’t like it” He growls insistently into the mattress, though his voice sounds tight and husky. He exhales through his nose as Vlad slips his fingers out of him, but apprehension begins to twist in his guts as he hears the signature sound of a zipper.

There’ a brief rustle of clothes, a soft thump of Vlad’s coat hitting the floor, and Roswell rears forward when he feels the hot press of Vlad’s enormous cock against him, pitifully trying to crawl away toward the headboard only to be dragged back into place by his hips. Vlad lets his cock rest against the Medic’s crack, squeezing at the pudgy love-handles under his fingers, and Roswell makes a noise of complaint.

“I’m tired, let me sleep!” The Medic whines, wracking his brain for suitable excuses as to why he doesn’t want to do this. Any reason other than “it hurts and I don’t like it”. Vlad never buys that one, and if he does, he doesn’t care enough to stop. Something in the man’s brain makes it feel like it’s his duty to convince the medic of his own desires.

Roswell feels his breath hitch as Vlad keeps one hand firmly on his hip, and begins to guide his cock in with the other, feeling the slick pressure against his stretched hole, insisting permission to enter as his ass is forced to accept it. A lump begins to form in the Medic’s throat as he feels his ass split around the head of Vlad’s enormous cock, feeling himself clench and spasm around the invading length as it gradually pierces him, inch by agonizing inch.

His arms begin to shake, there’s sweat pouring off of him in rivulets and he gasps and swallows loudly, struggling with the hideous stretching sensation that begins to burn up his spine.

“ _I don’t like it_ ” Roswell repeats. sounding strained, when Vlad is about half way inside. Saliva isn’t the best lube. despite how good Vlad thinks his oral skills are, it just isn’t enough.

“You will learn to like it” Vlad tells him simply, suddenly tugging the Medic’s hips back flush against his own, driving his cock deep and hard in to the hilt, balls slapping against the Medic’s taint.

Vlad groans blissfully, but Roswell _wails_ , lurching to grab the headboard before him, anything to stabilize himself against the sudden agony. He grinds his head against the wood, hissing through his teeth as Vlad spears him open.

“Stop clenching so hard, relax” Vlad directs him, though with no fondness in his voice. Roswell can’t help himself, the Russian;s condescending instructions driving him mad.

“Oh, did you put it in? I didn’t even notice” The Medic barks snidely, though there’s an obvious crease in his brow and his eyes are narrowed in pain. Still, Vlad doesn’t appreciate his tone. He squeezes the Medic’s chubby sides harshly, giving him a rough thrust that knocks his chin against the headboard, accompanied by a stinging slap across the rear that leaves a hot red handprint in it’s wake.

“I can’t even feel it” Roswell goads, though he hisses when Vlad continues to crack his palm against his ass, slapping back and forth to match the tempo of his punishing thrusts.

“You want me to make you suck me instead? Make you taste your own ass?” The bearded Russian asks gruffly; “You’re usually happy stuffing your big mouth” He adds with a nasty chuckle.

“ _Fuck off”_ The Medic barks back, bristling with offense, but Vlad only continues to rile him up.

“Why? is true. Look at you, you are as curvy and soft as a woman” Roswell grows ever more livid as Vlad pinches and squeezes his doughy love handles, kneading the fat under his huge, rough hands.

The irate Medic snaps his head to the side and gives the Heavy an enraged glare.

“Says you, fatty!” He bites, only to grunt in surprise as Vlad smacks his ass particularly hard, making his plush rump jiggle pleasantly under his hand. The Russian chuckles under his breath, striking again and again and watching the Medic’s ass cheeks gradually turn a raw pink.

“Just _stop it!_ ” The Italian gripes as the Heavy continues to abuse his ass, bucking into him in firm, steady strokes, taking his sweet time. Roswell can’t stop a moan escaping his lips as Vlad angles his thrusts just so, through the aching sting in his insides, he feels that spark of pleasure that he so desperately resents.

The nauseating cocktail and pleasure and foreign pain only escalates as Vlad snatches up a handful of Roswell’s silky black hair, and yanks the Medic back against him, forcing his back to arch and practically using his hair as a handle, snapping his hips up into the smaller man and making him shout.

“Squeal, little piglet” The Russian laughs cruelly as Roswell cries out with each thrust, forced to bounce his ass against Vlad’s bigger hips.

The Medic feels his head swimming, he’s too hot, burning up as he’s railed fiercely from behind, conflicted over the warm pleasure threatening to overcome him. He doesn’t want to enjoy it, doesn’t want to give Vlad the damn satisfaction, but he can’t deny how hard his cock is.

Making a conscious effort to be subtle about it, Roswell sneaks a hand under himself in attempt to play with his dick and bring himself off, but as his quivering fingers brush the wet head, forcing a sharp moan to burble out of his mouth, he’s thwarted by Vlad.

“Oh no you don’t” The big man snarls, and with a sharp shove to the small of the back, sends the Medic sprawling forward, crushing the smaller under his hulking form and flattening him into the mattress. Thrusting wildly and sending the Medic into fits of shrill wails,  Roswell practically screams as Vlad pins him by the shoulders and starts to fuck him like he’s trying to kill him, hips slapping roughly against his ass, the headboard slamming rhythmically against the wall as the bedside lamps rattle on their tables.

The Medic’s brown eyes screw shut as the assault becomes overwhelming, Vlad’s cock strikes so deep within him he can feel it in his stomach, shocking pleasure spreads down his legs and he curls his toes, shuddering and whimpering.

“You want to come, little pig?” Vlad murmurs huskily in his ear, out of breath and dripping with sweat as he fucks the living daylights out of the little medic. Roswell can do little but pull at his own sweaty hair, stuffing a knuckle into his mouth as his eyes roll back, huffing loudly through his nose as sharp ecstasy blooms in his groin, coiling outwards and surging through his body.

“ _Fermalo! Lo non voglio, Brutto maiale, Stupido brutto mailale_!” The Medic bawls, fighting with himself as his thighs suddenly tense, one leg begins to shake uncontrollably as the pleasure builds and builds until he just can’t take it.

“ _Oh fuck!_ ” His chin is soaked in drool as he throws his head back and howls, clenching _hard_ around Vlad’s thick cock. He feels incredible, weightless as he goes delirious with pleasure, euphoric even, eyes fixed to the top of his skull as the big man fucks him through his intense orgasm. Roswell barely registers his own gushing cock grinding against the bedsheets, only able to focus on the immense pleasure deep within him.

Vlad smiles to himself as Roswell’s hole spasms and clenches around him, he fucks the wailing Medic hard, drawing out his pleasure til’ the very end.

By the time the Italian is coherent again, breathing hard into the pillows like he’s just run a marathon, hair plastered to his face and neck with sweat, he dimly realizes he’s still being rocked into at full force, suddenly feeling incredibly sore and tired.

“Stop, I’m done, you can stop now” He breathes wearily, throat dry and voice hoarse. Vlad slows, but doesn’t stop, instead grinding his cock in deep and drawing an uncomfortable whine from the Italian.

“ _Stoppp…_ ” Roswell gripes, glancing back with wide-blown eyes at the beastly Russian. Those slapping hips slow to a halt for the moment, and Vlad pulls out excruciatingly slowly, causing the Medic to wince and shudder. His tired sigh of relief is rudely interrupted by mammoth hands gripping his hips and forcing him onto his back, hooking the Medic’s boneless legs into the crooks of his elbows and bending him in half.

Roswell's eyes go wide, he stares up at the ceiling as Vlad pushes back in to his sore, slack hole with one smooth thrust. His hands shoot up to grip the Heavy’s thick, hairy forearms, nails pinching into his skin as the man thrusts in hard, rocking them both. The Medic grits his teeth, chin on his chest and staring down between his legs as the Russian continues to simply use him.

“I said stop! it’s too much” He huffs desperately, grunting in the back of his throat as Vlad pushed his knees up to his chest and slams his hips against his ass with a fleshy slap, causing the Medic to jolt, oversensitive and exhausted.

Holding one of the Medic’s knees up by his shoulder, Vlad reaches does to pinch and tug at Roswell’s hardened nipples, before twisting one cruelly and making him squeal. The Russian chuckles lowly as his thrusts increase in force and speed, hips pummeling against the Medic’s red behind.  Roswell's short nails scrape down the Heavy’s arms, clawing at the man and tossing his head about, barking out high moans.

“It’s too much… _I can’t_ -” Roswell pants, oversensitive and overwhelmed as the lingering pleasure becomes too much for him to bare, his body is tense and pouring with sweat, that initial discomfort returning in full force.

It’s when Vlad ignores his pleas, only to cup the Medic’s slightly pudgy chest and give him a harsh squeeze, murmuring fondly “I love your soft tits” that Roswell decides he’s truly had enough.

He lurches up, writhing and arching under the bigger man, flailing his one free leg up to kick the Russian hard under the chin, sending his head snapping back, teeth clacking together.

Vlad looks down at him slowly, rubbing his hairy chin, before backhanding the Medic with such force it makes the Italian dizzy, the harsh crack resonating in his ears. He tastes blood in his mouth, but Vlad doesn’t give him a second. Gripping once again under the Medic’s knees, he folds the man practically in half and begins to hammer into his ass with punishing force.

“Admit you like it” Vlad leans over his partner, breathing hot against his lips, sweat dripping from his brow onto the Medic’s flushed skin. His queer eyes stare intensely into the Medic’s own, taking in his hugely dilated pupils,  eyes unfocused as he struggles to cope with the sensation.

“ _Please_ Vlad! it’s too much, it _hurts!_ ” The Medic wails pitifully, his cheek throbbing under a forming bruise.

The Russian tuts, his thrusts increasing in tempo, the headboard slamming into the wall over and over, chipping away at the plaster.

“I know you like it, you come just from getting fucked in the ass” He grunts, hauling the near-incoherent medic’s legs up onto his shoulders, angling himself deeper and harder, and Roswell screams, mouth wide and eyes rolling back to far his iris’ are barely visible. He swears he can feel his rear bruising under the force.

“Vlad, _Vlad, Per favore, Lo sto per morire,_ I can’t take it- Ah _FUCK_ ” The Medic babbles, head lolling and drooling on his own chest.

Finally, _finally_ , Vlad’s balls tighten and he nears the edge, leaning right over the Italian, and mercilessly fucking him with all of his remaining strength. Shifting his massive hands to clasp around the man’s middle, he uses the poor, boneless Medic like a ragdoll, slamming him onto his cock again and again as Roswell screams out like he’s being murdered, head thrown back and fingers threatening to tear holes in the bed sheets.

The burly Russian throws his head back with a mighty roar, showing those tacky golden fangs, as he bellows through his completion, giving the Medic three precise, fierce thrusts, holding himself in deep as he releases within the Medic’s tight, spasming channel.

 

Breathing slowly, the Russian regains himself, gradually sliding free of the Medic, who barely winches, staring absently through bleary eyes up at the ceiling, completely unaware of himself and the other man for the moment.

Vlad rolls off, and goes to fetch a Cigar from wooden box on the bedside table.

\---

Around nine or ten minutes later, Vlad and Roswell are side by side on the bed, a good two foot of space between them. Roswell is curled up on one side, facing away from the Russian, a bearskin throw pulled up to his ears as Vlad sits against the headboard, comfortably naked, sated and warm, smoking through a second cigar.

He glances flatly at the sulking Medic, rolling his eyes before clearing his throat.

“Do you want to cuddle?” He asks.

“You came inside me” The Medic states back, his voice a hoarse whisper; “I hate it when you do that”

Vlad blows a thick, black smoke ring, running one enormous hand through his slick backed hair, smoothing his white streak back into place.

“ _Прости_ ” He mutters, unconvincingly, though he pats the Medic’s hip affectionately, only for the man to huff and scoot away to the edge of the bed.

Vlad chuckles. “I’ll buy you a cream cake tomorrow, how does that sound?”

He hears an offended scoff from under the throw, but Roswell peeks his head out all the same, his face back to that bratty little sneer.

“I want two. And an eclair for Mandy”

Again, Vlad chuckles.

"отродье" 


End file.
